The Blue Of The Sky
by NotToBeMessedWith
Summary: He's blind, and yet all we know was that it was a failed night vision operation. What happened to him? How can you live without seeing the blue of the sky? xIggycentricx Painful little oneshot, may add more painmemories if I feel like it.


**Ok, so I'm a hopeless Iggy fangirl. I had to write this while I was waiting for MR4 - WHICH I GET THE DAY IT COMES OUT!**

**So for now, it's a oneshot, but I may do some other painful flashbacks of different Flock members.**

**R and R!**

_**The Blue of the Sky**_

_I was seven when they came for me._

_I was like Max and Fang – seven years old, tall and thin, with wings and a spirit crushed from living in a dog crate. But we had each other. I think that's what kept us from going insane like some of the other experiments – we had others like us. We could look at each other's faces and know 'I'm not alone, I've got others like me, and I am not a freak." Seeing their faces each morning, and knowing that they were not some of those who had died during the night… it helped keep me sane._

_We were out in the barren, high-walled courtyard. Gray stone, the type that encased the whole school, was browned from the dusty Death Valley soil that coated the courtyard ground. One wizened, choking tree grew in the middle in a desperate effort to make the courtyard a bit more cheerful. Jeb was watching us play, making sure we didn't make a bid for freedom. We were playing tag a few feet off the ground, always cautious of the electric mesh overhead._

_I can remember it so clearly. Max's hair was blonder then, and her faded red shirt and blue shorts looked brighter in the little sunlight we were allowed to see. She had no front teeth (they had fallen out) and brown eyes so big they seemed almost disproportionate to her head._

_Fang was much the same. He had a black shirt and blue shorts, and his hair was dark as night. It fell over his near-black eyes. He didn't smile as he chased us around through the air, but you could tell he was happy, happy to be outside and see the color of the sky and feel the warmth of the sun._

_Then there was Nudge. Her corkscrew hair was all over her four-year old face as she pumped her wings in a struggle to keep up with us. She squeaked when one of us zoomed towards her._

_The Gasman was just a year old, and sat on the ground in front of Jeb. He was a fat baby. I remember he played with foam blocks that Jeb had brought for him. They were brown and orange – spares that no one wanted. Like us, Max used to say._

_I was it. I was chasing Fang when a net swiped over my head. I immediately drew in my wings as the mesh closed around me. I had learned early on that struggling only brought pain. My blood was pounding in my ears. I didn't like enclosed spaces – this was smaller than my dog crate. I felt feathers yank from my dark brown wings, and I flinched in pain._

_Jeb stood up. "What are you doing with him?" he asked angrily. He glared at the whitecoat who had bagged me. I couldn't see him, couldn't move in the net without damaging my wings; though they were the reason I was here, I couldn't help but be proud of my wings and didn't want them hurt._

"_He's being taken for an experiment, Dr. Batchelder," the man replied. He had a deep voice. His voice had a cruel steel edge to it, like many whitecoats. Not like Jeb. Why is it that what hurts you most the clearest?_

_Jeb looked furious. "I didn't authorize this!" His voice was rising. I could see Max and Fang behind him. Fang loomed protectively over Gazzy as Max kept Nudge close. Max looked terrifed, Fang bitter. I knew what he was thinking – what more could they do to us? The man replied, "Yes, but Dr. O'Riley did, and he has authorization from the Director, which overpowers yours."_

_Jeb's mouth moved wordlessly as the man began to walk away. I was jostled in my net, felt feathers yanking from my back, and I looked desperately at Max and Fang. Max was screaming, "Iggy! Jeb, don't let them take Iggy!" and clutching at his shirt. Fang's fists were clenched, and he looked at me with panic – the most emotion I had ever seen from him. Nudge just stared, eyes huge with fright._

_From down on the dusty ground, I could hear Gazzy squeaking, "'Gy! 'Gy!"_

_The man carried me through the corridors. I was hung over his shoulder like a sack, . I curled protectively in a ball. could see other experiments watching me from their dog crates. I saw Effie, a young Eraser whose expiration date was tomorrow. She looked at me sorrowfully, then turned away shaking her wolfy head. I had a feeling she knew what was going to happen – and her eyes didn't reflect any good news. My stomach dropped._

_The man carried me through the School, muttering words of greeting to other whitecoats. One stopped him and eyed me. "This is the one?" the new whitecoat asked. He had a ratty face and a nasally voice that grated against my ears._

_My captor replied, "Yeah. After this, he'll be even more advanced than Jeb's little girl-pet." The man laughed. I felt the briefest flicker of hope down in my stomach. I knew Max had things we didn't. If this experiment was going to make me more advanced than her, was it really going to be so bad? As soon as the hope flared, it was doused. The whitecoats were not good. This could only be to meet their own twisted desires, and would not work out well for me._

_After a few more words we walked on in silence. I kept my head down, afraid to meet the eyes of the whitecoats. I let strawberry blonde hair hide my blue eyes. Finally, the whitecoat paused. I heard a door open, and looked up._

_We were in a whitewashed room, though that in itself wasn't intimidating. What was intimidating was that, when I was set on the ground and could look around, I was in an operation theater. There were glaringly bright lights, a gleaming cart filled with silver instruments, and – most terrifyingly – an operating table situated in the center of the room._

_I felt myself begin to hyperventilate. Needles, scalpels, and other dangerous equiptment – I was going to be operated on. Oh, God, no. They were going to do something to me, and with surgery, it wouldn't be good._

_A man in a blue lab coat walked over to me. He looked me over, mostly into my eyes. The he nodded and said, "You're known as Iggy, right?" I nodded nervously, trying to breathe normally. "Well, then, you're getting an operation." My smart aleck side kicked in, a reaction to drown out fear. Rule one of living in the School – don't let them know you're afraid._

"_No, really? I though I was getting a haircut," I said sourly. The man's smile dimmed a few watts, but he pushed on, "Yes, this operation is going to increase your night vision. It's a pioneer idea that…"_

_I tuned him out. My hands had gone icy. My eyes? They were going to experiment on my eyes? It was 'pioneer'; ergo, it had never been tried. I panicked. No. Not my eyes. They couldn't touch my eyes!_

_I tried to bolt, I really did. I sprang up out of the net and launched myself at the ceiling. My wings shot out, and I winced as I pumped them; losing feathers was painful. My theory was that soon they would have to open that door, and I would be out of here. It was stupid – they could come for me later – but I knew I didn't want them touching my face._

_I forgot to factor in the net. The man swung it over me and dragged me back to earth. I cried out as the rough netting dug into my wingbones. I felt blood run across the feathers. The doctor's smile was gone. "Fine, then, young man," he growled. "If you cannot appreciate this pioneer venture enough to cooperate, you will have to have anesthesia." With that, he pulled out a needle._

_I flipped. I hated needles – always have, always will. Too many experiments on me involved needles. I struggled desperately until I felt the cool steel sink into my arm. I screamed for all I was worth. I think I was still screaming as they strapped my to the lab table and darkness overtook me._

_Images flickered across my drugged vision. I saw the man in the lab coat wearing a mask, swabbing something on my face. I saw the net man laughing as he plucked another feather painfully out of my wing. And lastly, I saw a shining silver scalpel dominating my sight as I lost conciousness completely._

_When I woke up, it was pitch black. That was nothing new to me – it was often dark in the lab room we slept in at night. Feeling carefully around and in front of me, I realized I was back in my dog crate. To confirm it, I felt the letters of the alphabet I had engraved on the side in an effort to teach myself. Quietly, I called, "Fang? Max? Are you there?"_

"_Iggy!" Max's relieved voice cut through the darkness. I smiled – it was good to hear a familiar voice. "You're ok! I thought they would have done something terrible to you!" Fang added, "Dude, you've been out for hours. What did they do to you, cut off your wings?" There was no joking in his voice. The whitecoats were insane._

"_No, they just wanted to improve my night visio- " I broke off, a sudden fear rising in my stomach. If they wanted to improve my night vision, why couldn't I see better in this darkness? Terror clawed its way into my thoughts. I tried to shake it off with a "It probably didn't work, and your vision is normal" but I didn't believe it._

_Carefully, I touched my eyes. They were tender, and I sucked in breath sharply as they pained me. I waved my hand in front of them. Nothing. I moved my hand right up to them. Nothing. Oh, God, no._

"_Iggy?" Max asked anxiously. Swallowing, I croaked, "What time is it?" Fang's confusion echoed in his voice. "It's noon, Iggy. Jeb will be here to take us out soon." There was silence as panic consumed me, and then, "Why?"_

_So quietly no one but those two could possibly hear it, I whispered, "Because all I see is darkness."_

_That day, I didn't play tag with the others. I didn't talk to Jeb, or help baby Gasman build with blocks. Instead I stared sightlessly up, up at the blue sky I'd never see again, feeling the warm yellow sun whose light couldn't pierce blindness' shadow._


End file.
